One Simple Plan?
by AerrowLover
Summary: Yeah, right. Something's brewing in Michigan, something which may make even the Apocalypse look easy-peasy. But once the boys -and a 'friend'- go there, Sam ends up alone with only a demon for company. And it's up to Dean to save him.
1. Radical Notion

**Author's Note****: Right, I have **_**no idea**_** where this came from. One minute I'm happily borrowing my mam's laptop to answer some questions in several private messages, the next I'm suddenly typing away like crazy. I blame Sam and Crowley for this, I really do.**

**I need to say a massive thank you to everyone who has pm-ed with words of encouragement during my own horrible Hellatus, which is due to GCSES and a comatose computer. Thank you so much guys for sticking by me with such patience! Please grin and bear it a little longer and hopefully I'll soon have a TONNE of updates for you. Until then, take this as a peace offering. Care of my recent obsession with a certain English demon. ;)**

**Warning****: Me being me, this contains swearing, scenes of violence/torture, and constant bickering between hunters and demons alike (Cas is apparently too polite to argue. :P) If offended by any of the aforementioned, then stay away. :L**

**Disclaimer:**** As always, I do not own Supernatural. Not even a teeny knife or weeny gun.**

**Dedicated to: The awesome Wicked-Freakin-Witch, aka Bobby. She's been my long-suffering first reader for many, many fics, plus she's Lord SPN. So this is me showing her off. :P You're amazing Bobby, and thanks for everything. :L**

* * *

"**One Simple Plan"**

"_So I did the only thing you can do when you are trapped in a corner: I chewed my way through the wall."_

_~Scott Adams~_

* * *

_Present_

Sam Winchester did not like demons.

Infact, Sam Winchester would gladly admit to hating the black-eyed sons of bitches.

True, he had continuously slept with one and drank her blood, but… But that had been different. Totally and utterly different. And that had also been a long time ago. Kind of…

Anyway, he had been pretty screwed up back then. After all, he had seen his brother ripped to shreds in front of his very eyes by hellhounds before being dragged to Hell, like he was some bloody valentine gift for them. Sam had been full of anger, hate, rage and depression and all too ready to listen to the honey-coated words of sulphur pouring from…_Ruby's_… Mouth.

_She doesn't deserve to be known by a name. _

He had been lead down the road to ruin and as a result, vowed never to be led astray by a demon ever again. Not ever. He would never allow himself or his brother to think that demons could ever help them; would ever want to help them.

Which all lead back to the same thing. Sam hated demons. Hated them for what they stood for, for what they did. For what they reminded him of.

Himself.

He, the once expectant 'King of the Demons' and now the vessel of Lucifer. He was considered an abomination, and Sam knew that there were days - terrible, blood-filled days- when even Dean would look at him as if he was. It hurt to know that, but hey, wasn't truth meant to hurt? All Sam could do was keep his head down and fight the good fight against evil in his attempt to earn forgiveness and redemption. And he would not even consider thinking of listening to a demon's 'advice', not matter how tempting it may seem.

Sam Winchester hated demons. Hated being around them. Hated seeing them possess an innocent and unsuspecting human and run riot. Hated seeing their eyes turn black, knowing that maybe, just maybe, someday his eyes would do the same thing. Hated knowing that once he had drank their blood. Hated remembering the hot, sweet and spicy liquid burning in his throat, making him feel all-powerful. He just disliked thinking about them, full stop.

Which made his current predicament all the worse. For not only was Sam Winchester thinking about a demon, he was actually with one. And not just with one, but rather… Locked up with one.

Could his day get any worse?

Looking at his cellmate, Sam sighed. The full realisation of the situation he was now currently in hit him like a slap in the face.

Oh yes. Oh yes it could.

* * *

_Three days previous_

"I do not understand." Castiel's voice travelled to where Sam was standing, having paused in his sluggish journey to Bobby's kitchen. He was tired – no, exhausted – and had slept in. Surprisingly, Dean had let him lie in and had not instead woken him up at the crack of dawn. Sam had to thank him for that; these past couple of weeks had been non-stop and he had barely gotten any sleep.

Not that he had wanted to sleep. The dreams he had were traumatic to say in the least, full of whispers said by a velvet voice, promising him all sorts of wonders if he would just give in. The images of fire and smoke, of death and destruction… Sam shook his head as if he could dispel those images with a single movement. He could only pray that he and his brother, plus Bobby and of course Cas could save the World before what he was dreaming would actually become a reality. He sighed. That was if they _could _actually save the World.

Before he could let himself dwell to deeply on that thought, Sam forced himself to continue to walk towards the kitchen, hearing more of the conversation that was already taking place there between the other members of Team Free Will, plus Bobby, of course.

"What don't you understand, Cas?" That was Dean this time, with an edge of exasperation to his voice. Sam couldn't help but smile – apparently Castiel was finding yet another aspect of day-to-day human life confusing. Something that was becoming all the more frequent after Cas being completely drained of his 'Angel Mojo', thus making him become more and more human as the days went on.

Sam's smile faltered. Poor Castiel. It must be harder than Dean or he had previously thought; this struggle of adapting from his angelic existence to a more meagre human one.

But the questions Cas asked and the way he asked them were still funny at times. Sam found himself smiling again at the memory of some of the funniest questions.

He was nearly at the kitchen now.

"Why does that Doctor…" Here Cas was apparently stumbling over the words, "…Sexy… not just admit his feelings for that female doctor? Why must they always fight? I thought they loved each other. That does not seem like love to me." Castiel sounded utterly confused. To be honest, so was Sam. Since when was Dean encouraging Cas to watch that horrendous show?

All the same, he couldn't help but laugh, and laughed harder when he heard Dean shouting, "Shut up, Sam!"

"And you said you weren't a fan." Sam said through his laughter. He heard Dean grumble something along the lines of, "I am _not_ a fan. I just… Watch the show…"

He was still laughing when he entered the kitchen. The table was surrounded, bar one empty seat, and there was one hefty looking pile of books and papers crammed into one small corner of the table. Sam glanced at the occupants of the full seats. According to Castiel's still bewildered look, Dean had not answered his question. And judging by Dean's flummoxed one, he wouldn't be answering. Bobby simply rolled his eyes at Sam over Dean's shoulder before settling back down to look at his latest research.

Resorting to shaking his head at Castiel, Dean glanced up at his little brother.

"Hey, Sam. You sleep alright last night?" The concern was evident in the question, as was the unasked one – 'anymore visits from Lucifer?'

Sam shrugged. He wasn't going to admit that although he had had a nice long lie-in for once; it had still been filled with the late night showing of 'The Apocalypse.' He saw Dean's eyes narrow in suspicion, and quickly decided to change tactics.

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me sleep in. I owe you one." He said, pasting a smile on his face. Dean didn't look convinced, but perhaps in the interest of keeping the mood peaceful, nodded and thankfully for Sam dropped the subject. A quick glance at Castiel, however, told Sam that although the angel was still puzzled over the latest episode of 'Doctor Sexy MD', he looked at Sam like he knew fine rightly that Sam was lying. But he made no comment, and Sam breathed out a breath he had no recollection of ever holding.

_Tricky situation momentarily passed…_

"Bobby," Dean turned his chair around the table to face the older hunter and his pile of papers, "You said that you'd heard something from one of your friends last night." Dean looked at the man he had come to regard as his father-figure. Bobby kept his eyes on the book before him, not meeting Dean's eyes. Dean wasn't giving up, though. "Care to fill me in?"

Bobby sighed, and looked caught out. Sam raised his eyebrows – what was going on? This wasn't like Bobby. He never kept things hidden from them. Unless… Sam pulled up a chair and sat beside Castiel, who mercifully no longer looked confused but instead wore his expressionless face they had come to know so well. Sam, however let his attention return to his older brother and Bobby. Who had set down the book he had been studying and looked at the older Winchester.

"Look, I didn't want to say anything, Dean, 'cause I knew that you being the eejit that you are, you would be flying down there as soon as!" The older man thundered, but Dean just rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth, about to argue, but the older hunter kept going. "And we don't fully know what's going on, anyway-"

This time, however, Dean managed to get a word in. "Then let us go down to – where is it? Somewhere in Michigan? – and sort whatever it is out." Dean folded his arms as if to say it was a case closed. Sam was about to confirm Dean's verdict –

_So much for keeping the mood peaceful today, Dean-_

when Bobby exploded.

"Boy, you already have a full plate as it is! I am not lettin' you, guns blazin' as always, go into a potentially dangerous place!" Bobby stood up, blistering with fury. Sam could understand why. All the fear and heartbreak his brother and himself had put their father-figure through over the past few years, and even now, when they had demons and angels after them as well as Lucifer and goodness knows what else, Dean wanted to take on more supernatural things. It was enough to make a man scream in vexation, and apparently it was Bobby's time to scream.

Dean stood up too, looking frustrated. "Bobby, you know as well as I do that we are gettin' nowhere when it comes to ways on takin' Lucifer down. Yeah, we have the rings of the four horsemen, but that's it! Not even a back-up plan!" Dean was really ranting now, and Sam found himself sighing, and completely zoning out. He was slightly shocked, but only slightly, at what Dean was saying, and how tired he sounded. After all, how many times had Dean said pretty much said the same things to him; how they couldn't stop the whole 'end of the world' and how 'done' Dean was. Sam was now used to it, but still shocked him to hear his brother, the hunter who never gave up, just… Giving up.

Sam found his thoughts drifting away, back to the times where it had been Dean who had dragged him everywhere, and not the other way around, as was increasingly becoming the norm. It had been Dean who had dragged him from college, those four odd years ago. It had been Dean who had helped him when Jessica had died. It had been Dean who had been intent on following their father's orders instead of tracking said father down, and had made Sam do the same. It had always been Dean, and although there had been times when Sam had rebelled, it had been something that he had gotten used to. Hell, the fact that he could rely on Dean to look out for him had been comforting, to say in the least.

But now? Now he wasn't so sure what Dean would do. Now it had been Sam who had to force and cajole Dean into moving from one place to another to continue the fight. It wasn't something Sam had been used to doing, but sadly, now he was getting good at it.

His brother was still saying something, his voice rising in sound. Sam suddenly found himself jerked back to reality; to the here and now.

"And you can hardly lecture me Bobby on being sensible and not doing anything foolish." Dean said angrily, "after all, you were the one who made a fucking deal with a demon! After all the times you lectured me about what I did for Sam!" Sam jumped at the mention of his name, and looked for Bobby's reaction to what Dean had just said.

Bobby appeared to choke on his words, before spitting out, "I did that to help you, you ungrateful boy!" He bristled in anger and slammed a hand down on the table, the sudden noise of which made Sam jump again. "I did that to help you! How dare you say that to me!"

Dean threw his hands into the air. "Helpful like when I traded my soul to get Sam back? You told me how stupid I was then, so this is _me _telling _you_ how stupid _you_ are now!" Before Bobby could interrupt him, Dean continued in rant mode, "How could you have fallen for that, Bobby? Have you even gotten your soul back?"

At Dean's latest tirade, Bobby closed his mouth in resignation. Dean seized the chance. "Well, have you?"

Sam glanced at Cas, who seemed absorbed in watching the reactions of the two hunters during an argument.

_So, no help there then. Great, up to me again…_

Sam was about to open his mouth to defend Bobby, back Dean up - he wasn't too sure on what route to take – when another voice piped up instead, causing Sam to jump for the third time that morning.

"Not yet. But I fully intend to give it back."

All eyes in the kitchen turned towards the back of the room to find the location of the voice. And saw the owner of said voice.

"Crowley." Dean growled out the name through gritted teeth. "Just the person – oh sorry, _demon_ – I wanted to see." The sarcasm practically dripped off his tongue.

This did not deter the dark-haired demon, self styled 'King of the Crossroads'. He simply smirked at Dean, who ground his teeth in frustration. The English demon had that effect on him. Sam didn't blame his brother.

"Just as well I came to see you, darling. You could always call, you know." Crowley's eyes swept the room, before landing on Bobby. "As I was saying, before Dumb of 'Dumb and Dumber' greeted me with that charming way of his, I do intend on giving you back your soul, my dear man."

Bobby, who had reacted quicker than the brothers, had crossed the kitchen to find his hidden shotgun, loaded with rock salt, and pointed it at the demon. He looked torn, however, between retorting to the perhaps demon ally and looking at Dean as if to say, 'see. I'm getting my soul back. Ha ha.'

Crowley however looked bored at the sight of the shotgun; like he didn't think it would be used on him today. "Oh, really. _That_ again. What a way of treating the person who gave you your mobility back. I'm really very hurt." He pretended to wipe away a tear.

Oh yes, that was right. Crowley had been the one who had succeeded where Castiel could not – he had healed Bobby, and apparently out of the goodness of his black heart. Sam snorted.

_Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen._

"I do not trust you, demon." Castiel suddenly spoke, looking up with those intense blue eyes of his. "Leave this place, before I…" He trailed off, as he realised that he couldn't fulfil what he was about to threaten the demon with. Crowley looked at him, his own dark brown eyes glittering as he took in the angel's lack of power.

"Now, that's not very nice, Angel-cakes. I do have a name, you know." Crowley stretched out, before making his way over to the table and perching on the edge of it. "Besides, " he continued, smirking somewhat, "How were you planning on banishing me, exactly? You're out of juice, kiddo." He looked the angel up and down as if to prove his point, while Castiel visibly crumbled. He knew the demon was right, which made him feel all the more depressed – he was too weak and feeble to even smite a demon. How pathetic.

Looking furious that Crowley had made Castiel feel weak, Dean spat at the demon again. "Look, as lovely as this reunion is, what the hell do you want, Crowley?" It didn't escape Sam's notice that Dean did to tell him to leave, but rather to simply talk. It was that which did it for Sam.

"Dean, he's a demon! Why are you bloody talking to him?" Sam growled, causing his brother to look down at him with a sigh.

"Sammy, let's not go through this again, not like last time-"

"No, let's." Sam said, feeling the bile rise in his throat when he saw Crowley's smirk grow more pronounced as they argued. "He is a demon! He isn't helping us to save the world, rather-"

"Helping you to save himself, perhaps?" Crowley interrupted, making Sam turn around to face him with a glare. He couldn't deny, however, that the demon said just what he was going to.

"Yes." Sam ground out, dragging a hand through his hair. "You're just hanging around here because you have nowhere else to go, now that you're being hunted by your own filthy, stinking kind." Sam said furiously. "You're only 'helping' us because you have to in order to survive!"

"And why, pray tell, did I end up like this in the first place?" Crowley still smiled, but his voice took on a dangerous edge, which his English accent only served to highlight. The demon looked at the hunters and sort-of-angel before elaborating. "I helped you out; gave you the Colt. Not my fault if your plan didn't work, as I've said before," he said, seeing that both Bobby and Dean wanted to interrupt, "I helped you out, and now I'm hunted by those who once served me and worked with me. It's all very…Heartbreaking." Sam snorted at that. "As little Samuel said, I truly have no other place to go that isn't filled with those trying to catch me." The emphasis on his full name caused Sam to throw the demon yet another glare, but he only got a laugh in return.

The kitchen fell silent. Bobby still held the shotgun; still pointed it at the outcast demon, while Cas did not take his eyes off the demon either. Sam just glared, feeling naught but hatred for the _thing_ that sat only a short distance from him. He toyed with the idea of throwing the saltcellar that was in front of him at the thing, just to see how it would react. He smirked himself at the thought of what would happen.

Eventually it was Dean who broke the silence.

"You still haven't said why you're here, Crowley." He said, sitting down again with a frown. No doubt he was wondering if the demon was planning something, Sam thought.

_That makes two of us, Dean._

The demon straightened, and looked at Dean, before glancing distastefully at the shotgun.

"Well, I came here thinking I would offer some information and maybe even some assistance-"

"Then offer it, you son of a bitch." Bobby growled, before lowering the shotgun and sitting down again too. Sam openly gaped – had everyone gone crazy around here? Throwing a look to Castiel, who merely looked at him with those blue eyes and with no expression on his face, Sam spoke up yet again.

"Um, hello? Are we actually gonna listen to this thing?" He asked, pointing at Crowley whilst looking at both his brother and Bobby. Both of them sighed.

"Might as well. See, Sammy, we need all the help we can get. 'Sides, Mister Crowley here knows that we can make things painful for him if he lies to us, doesn't he?" Dean said, turning from Sam to Crowley, who rolled his eyes.

"Talk about gratitude." The demon said, shaking his head. "I stopped Zombieland from existing, did I not?" Sam, however, felt slightly reassured by his big brother's words and decided to see what information was up for grabs.

"So, talk." Dean ordered, resting his head on his fist, brooking no further arguments.

Crowley smirked again. "Knew you would eventually listen. The bickering you all do! Honestly, you are worse than old housewives, you know that?" He chuckled at the glares he received. "Fine, I'll talk. Well, I could not help but overhear that you were planning to take a trip to Michigan, but you didn't know what all the fuss was about. Darlings," he drolled, "I can tell you what you need to know." He dropped his voice to a theatrical whisper, "I can tell you that it's a little squad of demons who are searching..." Crowley raised his hands and eyes towards the ceiling and continued to whisper. "_Quite_ frantically." He dropped his hands with a flourish. "Ta da!"

Bobby cut through the demon's antics. "What are they looking for?" he asked, already reaching for some papers, as if he could confirm what Crowley was saying. Crowley laughed, and shook his head.

"Not 'what', but 'who.' They're looking for a child." He explained.

"A child?" Dean said, looking confused.

"A child?" Sam found himself asking, wondering what terrible things demons could use a child for.

"What is this, 'Echoes R Us'?" Crowley snapped, looking impatient. "Yes, a child. They need a child to be a vessel, you see. And before you ask," Crowley continued on seeing that several mouths were open already, "they need a vessel for a lovely little fella called Mammon."

"The son of Lucifer." Castiel looked pained. Dean and Sam looked at him in surprise. Since when did the Devil have a child? Was that not the Antichrist?

"Nope, the Antichrist is someone different entirely." Crowley said lazily, prompting Sam to re-think his theory that demons were not mind-readers. "You have already met him, and let me assure you that he seems harmless next to Mammon."

"'Mammon est nomen daemonis'…" Bobby muttered, quoting something from memory. "I've heard of the name before, but I thought that it was something generic; that it could be used for a variety of things. A blanket-like term." He sounded almost hopeful.

"No." Both Crowley and Castiel spoke at the same time, which would have been amusing in any other circumstance. Bobby looked pained now, too.

Dean spoke up, looking shaken. "Care to explain who it is then? How the fuck did the Devil actually have a bloody child?" He sounded exhausted all of a sudden, and Sam didn't blame him. He felt the same way.

"Hey, you're insulting Hell's version of Jesus; the guy who is meant to be _my_ saviour." Crowley said, but laughed. "Not that I care."

"You've gotta be kidding me…" Sam breathed. "Did Lucifer mirror _everything_ God did?"

"Yes, my fallen brother did copy our Heavenly Father, but his creation was twisted and murderous." Castiel said, his voice falling flat. "Mammon is nothing like the true Son Of God and Saviour of Mankind." he finished, while Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Spare me the lesson, angel-cakes. Look, as your little Cas said," he ignored the glare Dean threw at him for using Castiel's nickname, "Mammon is twisted. Totally and utterly determined to make the entire human race his slaves and bow to him, where as lovely Lucifer wants to simply wipe them all out. The Antichrist… Well, to be honest, we're not too sure what he will do. It's all rather vague." Crowley paused, with a sigh. "Actually, seeing as I am no longer part of that 'we', I should rephrase that to 'I' have no idea about he will do."

Dean dragged his hands through his hair, before rubbing his eyes. His day was getting worse, and he'd only been up for four hours! Then again, he should have been expecting something worse than a standard demon hunt. Since when did they ever get anything that easy these days? No, it had to be something related to the apocalypse!

Sam watched his brother with yet more sympathy. It seemed that everything had to go from one extreme to the next for them; that nothing was ever as straight forward as it may have once been. But then again, what else would be expected – Lucifer was running free, after all.

Bobby cleared his throat. "As interestin' as that was, demon, just answer one question. How do we stop him?" Dean sat up straighter, waiting for Crowley's answer.

The demon laughed, before looking at the hunters' faces. On seeing their stony faces, he stopped. "Sorry, I thought you were joking, Bobby." He smirked at Bobby, who tapped the shotgun sitting before him.

"I ain't in the mood for your jokes, you son of a bitch!" He barked, and Sam couldn't help but agree. Once again, he was pretty tempted to throw that saltcellar at the demon – he couldn't listen to another ten minutes of the thing talking and smirking, he really couldn't.

The Crossroads demon rolled his eyes once more. "Really, all the dramatics are quite unnecessary." All the same, Sam noticed how he looked at the shotgun with loathing.

_Guess getting shot with salt really does hurt the sons of bitches after all, no matter how badass they are._

Sam also noticed how Dean's foot was tapping the floor due to his impatience.

"Just answer the god-damn question, Crowley. We don't have all day!" Dean exclaimed as the demon looked like he was not going to answer.

"Look, dear little Deano, there really is nothing to answer. You cannot stop Mammon; only his darling daddy can. And believe me; I'm not going to be hanging around to see that, seeing as how Old Nick wants practically every part of me impaled on spikes." Crowley shook his head at the image. "Not something I want to happen to this rather attractive body of mine." He smirked again, while Sam had to force himself not to throw the saltcellar at him. God, the dick was so smarmy. And just…Eugh! He ground his teeth in his frustration.

"He is right." Castiel spoke up, once again surprising everyone. "Mammon, once in a vessel, cannot be stopped. And his reign of terror will be great." Castiel's bottomless blue eyes were solemn.

"Oh, wonderful." Sam snorted. "Just what we've always wanted. Yet another reign of terror." He glanced at Dean. "What should we do?"

His brother looked thoughtful for a moment, while Bobby began to frantically search through the book he had been reading for something. Castiel however, kept his gaze focused on the demon, who had gotten up off the table and was looking outside of the kitchen window.

"How did you enter this dwelling?" Castiel asked him, "After all, it is as demon-proof as a place can be." Sam perked up at that – he had been so focused on getting the bloody thing _out_, he hadn't been thinking about how he had gotten _in_. Cas was right – there was salt on every window and doorway, not to mention the devil's traps and various insignias on the walls. Bobby had had to reinforce the security around his home after Lucifer had been set free. There were more demons around than ever now, and even more reason to step up the security.

Crowley merely winked at the angel, before turning back around again to face the window. "That's for me to know, and you to wonder, angel-cakes. Besides, those devil's traps don't work on me, only for lesser demons."

There was another pause while everyone thought about different things. Dean and Bobby on a plan, Castiel was thinking about improvements that could be made to Bobby's 'security system' while Sam just wanted to either leave the room or get the demon to do so. Crowley just looked at the rows of cars Bobby had parked outside, and looked thoughtful about something.

"Cas, you said that once Mammon was in a vessel, he couldn't be stopped. Right?" Dean asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended on the kitchen.

Castiel nodded, tilting his head upwards. "That is correct. Not even Michael would be able to stop him once he entered a vessel." Sam inwardly shuddered – Michael, aka the Badass of Heaven, couldn't stop this guy? Hell, the son of Lucifer must be powerful in that case.

Dean raised an eyebrow at this piece of information, thinking along the same lines as his little brother – holy shit, this Mammon is one big bad – but didn't comment. Instead he grinned. "Then it's really obvious what we should do. Simply gank the search team of demons and prevent a vessel from being found." He sat back, looking triumphant.

"So sorry to rain on your parade, but I don't think that will help." Crowley said, whirling around to face the occupants of the table.

Sam, unfortunately, agreed with the smug bastard, and decided that he had to inform Dean of his reason why, regardless of how much he hated having to agree with the demon.

"If they're really looking for a vessel, more will simply come, right?" Sam said, looking at Crowley, who nodded. "Meaning that we could kill demons 'til the cows came home, but it won't stop them coming."

"I don't get it." Bobby muttered, sounding puzzled. "Does your lot, "he said, addressing Crowley, "not know the identity of the vessel? I mean, they all knew 'bout Sam bein'-"

"Lucifer's play suit." Crowley said with a smirk. Sam threw him another glare, but Bobby ignored them both and continued.

"And 'bout Dean bein' the vessel for Michael. So how come they don't know who's unlucky this time 'round?"

Crowley didn't answer right away, as if he was thinking the question over and deciding the best way of answering it.

"It is… Different this time around." He said slowly, as if he was picking his words with care. "It had long been foretold that the Winchesters were the vessels for the heavy-weights, but this time…" He sighed, pausing again. "It's difficult to explain. You know that Heaven is currently divided-"

"How did you know that?" Castiel looked shocked.

_Apparently that was meant to be kept a secret, only Hell knows. Oops on behalf of Heaven…_

"How _did_ you know that?" he asked again.

"I am- sorry, _was_ -quite high up in the rankings. If you were in the loop, you know about that." Crowley shrugged, and he continued, "Heaven is divided, but so is Hell. Half are totally behind Satan, the other half… Well, they like Mammon's way of doing things. He knows his father is out of the Box, and thinks this is his time to make a bid for power. Well, he wants to go top-side too, and thus needs a vessel. But no-one ever expected Mammon to make an appearance, so there was never any attempt to trace an appropriate bloodline for him for vessels." Crowley shrugged again. "So now Hell's in an uproar. Mammon's determined to find the play suit he needs to go and… play in. He's been told that he could try out a branch of the Winchester line, so he's looking into Michigan where you two apparently have distant cousins or something."

Bobby openly gaped before shutting his voice and breathing out. "Oh. Right."

Dean however was far more vocal. "Dude, we have distant cousins? And why the hell is it always us when it comes to 'hop right in, free ride trains'? It's startin' to piss me off. A lot." He muttered, his green eyes ablaze. Sam was about to say something similar before Dean chuckled. "Maybe it's 'cause we're all hot." He looked at Sam with a grin. "Apart from you, Gigantor." Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the grin from crossing his face. Sparing a glance at Cas, Sam could see that even he was smiling.

"Anyway, back to my plan." Dean said, still grinning. "I guess we could track down our relatives, warn them, gank the black-eyed sons of bitches and then take said relatives somewhere safe." He shrugged. "It's all I've got."

Bobby shook his head, settling down the still-open book. "I dunno, son. Thomas said that he thought there may be at least fifteen demons running riot there. That's a lot, too many for the four of us to take on at once. And as Sam said, even if we did manage to put them all down, more would come to replace them."

"Fifteen once would have been relatively simple for me to tackle, but now…" Castiel slumped again. "Bobby is right. I will barely be of any assistance to you."

Dean looked shocked at the very notion of Castiel going. "You can't come, Cas! You're still injured from your latest exploits! I am _not_ putting you in any danger!" His voice, edged with protectiveness, sounded final, and Sam saw that Castiel looked pained, knowing that what Dean said was the truth. He was too injured still; in no condition to be going anywhere.

_Poor guy…_

Then Crowley coughed, causing the four occupants of the table to look up. They had quite forgotten his being there. Apart from Sam, of course.

"Thus we reach the 'assistance' part of my being here." The demon said with a flicker of a grin. "Since your little pet angel is out of the question, now he's almost human and pretty much useless-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as Sam, furious at yet another taunt at Cas, and finally having lost patience with the demon, grabbed with lighting speed the shotgun from under Bobby's nose and fired. The rock salt-filled bullet slammed into Crowley's chest, causing the demon to shout in pain and stumble backwards.

"Fucking hell!" He spat, with a gasp. "Do you have_ any _idea how much that hurts?" He looked murderously at Sam. "Do you know what I did to the last person who tried that out on me? I slowly broke every bone in their body without even touching them!" He fumed, clutching his chest.

"I thought I was the last one to do that." Bobby said, smiling grimly, "And I'm still here, bones intact."

"Well, I needed your soul so I couldn't kill you, could I?" Crowley fumed, "I meant the last one before you. Why do I bother helping you lot out? All I seem to get is shot, threatened or my suits destroyed." He muttered, wincing.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I got shot with that stuff once and it's not that bad." Sam winced, knowing full well that it was because of him Dean had that particular memory. Dean then rounded on him, pointedly glaring before taking the shotgun from his hands. "What was that for, Sam?" He asked his little brother with exasperation evident in his voice.

"I don't trust him! Do you not think it's slightly strange how he comes to us with information on this 'son of the Devil' crap all of a sudden? What has it got to do with him? And why does he want to help us again?" Sam shouted, looking at the still glowering demon.

"You really are as thick as two short planks, aren't you?" Crowley said before Dean could answer. "Look, I'm already on the run from one leader of Hell, so I do not need another one on the loose, do I? If you two knuckleheads stop Mammon from coming top-side, then I've got one less thing to worry about. If I help you do it, then I leave behind no debt. Got it?" Once again, his English accent served to effectively increase the sharpness and edge to his words. "Though after getting shot by you, Mister Hypocrite, I'm starting to re-think offering my help!" He shouted.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Mister Hypocrite? What is that supposed to imply?" he asked, his words laced with venom.

"Come on Sam, this isn't helping! Crowley, stop encouraging him or else I'll pump you full with more rock salt!" Dean snapped, totally peeved off with both of them. Crowley, at the mention of more rock salt, shut his mouth and resorted to glaring. This was the reason he had only worked with Dean before – Sam was a bloody hothead who hated him and his kind.

Sam mutinously shut his mouth also, and Dean glared at them both. "We're gonna need to actually be able to work together if he want to stop another black-eyed sob-" He broke off, glancing at Crowley with a smirk, "No offense."

"None taken." Crowley muttered, once again perching on the side of the table. Castiel briefly smiled at Sam, as if to say, 'thank you for sticking up for me even though I didn't need you to' before fixing his gaze on the older Winchester.

Dean, still smirking, picked up where he had left off, "As I was saying, we need to work together to stop this Mammon guy from escaping the Pit. Understand?" Reluctantly, Sam nodded.

_I won't like it – I'll hate every minute - but it does make sense. _

_Unfortunately._

"So, how is this gonna work?" Bobby asked, looking at the demon with distrust written on his face. "I ain't working with that demon; I don't trust him. No offense." He added as an afterthought.

"None taken." Crowley remarked again, but then shook his head. "Actually, yes. Offense taken." he said, now pretending to look hurt. "I'm the one who gave you the use of your legs back! If you can't trust a man after that, when can you?" He asked with a smirk.

"Ah, that's the point." Bobby said with a smirk of his own. "You ain't a man, demon. And you still have my soul!" Sam laughed, while Castiel merely remained serene looking.

"I was thinking that Sam and I, along with Crowley, head up to Michigan. Cas can stay here, and Bobby, you should too. Yes, I know we'll need numbers," Dean said, seeing Bobby's shake of the head, "But I'd rather you were here, in case we needed more information." He didn't mention the more important reason – Bobby, after spending so much time in a wheelchair, was slightly out of practice when it came to hunts, but Bobby knew what Dean was struggling with and decided to help out.

"I know what you're thinking, son. I would probably be more of a hindrance than a help; I ain't been hunting in a while." Dean threw him a grateful glance while Sam nodded slowly.

"The three of us on a road trip. Great." Sam said flatly, prompting Crowley to laugh.

"Don't worry Sammy-boy. I'll be on my best behaviour. Promise."

"Which isn't promising much." Dean muttered, making Crowley laugh again. "I'm being serious, Crowley. You've nearly gotten me killed several times before!" With a sigh, Dean stood up, followed by his brother. "Guess we'd better get packing then. It's quite the drive." He looked at Castiel and Bobby with a grin. "You two take care of each other, right?"

"Oh, how touching. I wasn't aware that this was a foursome." Crowley said, his eyes glittering whilst he smirked.

Dean ignored the so-called 'King of the Crossroads' and tapped his brother. "Time to get cracking, Sammy. Later, Bobby, Cas." He left the kitchen, humming, 'Enter Sandman' under his breath. He found himself looking forward to hunting some demons. It was sure a hell of a lot easier than taking on angels, or one of the Four Horsemen.

Sam, however, wanted to smash his head of the closest wall. Several hours of driving lay ahead of him and his brother, and they would be accompanied by one of the most irritating things Sam had ever known. How he was going to stand it, he had no idea. Besides, he still had no idea why they were actually working with this demon again… In fact, why were they working with a demon, full stop? It was all bound to end badly, wasn't it?

"Suppose I better get moving too. See ya, Bobby. See ya, Cas." He said, leaving the kitchen and following his brother. When he looked over his shoulder before the kitchen was out of range, he saw that Crowley was staring straight at him, and dropped him a slow wink, before just vanishing. Sam heard Bobby mutter, "I hate it when they do that" which made him laugh, before continuing on his way to pack his bag with some clothes, and stock up on ammo. It was going to be a heck of a long trip. So he might as well be prepared.

Picking up a container of salt and empty bullet casings with a rather evil grin about his lips, Sam felt a bit better.

_Now I'm totally prepared._

* * *

**Woo, a new fic. Full of Bitchy! Sam, Pain-in-the-ass! Crowley and Pretty-peeved-off! Dean.**

**Oh, I likey. :P If you guys do to, then you know the drill. A review is, as always, greatly appreciated.**


	2. Je vais regrette

**Author's Note****: Right, I have **_**no idea**_** where this came from. One minute I'm happily borrowing my mam's laptop to answer some questions in several private messages, the next I'm suddenly typing away like crazy. I blame Sam and Crowley for this, I really do.**

**I need to say a massive thank you to everyone who has pm-ed with words of encouragement during my own horrible Hellatus, which is due to GCSES and a comatose computer. Thank you so much guys for sticking by me with such patience! Please grin and bear it a little longer and hopefully I'll soon have a TONNE of updates for you. Until then, take this as a peace offering. Care of my recent obsession with a certain English demon. ;)**

**Words in italics are Sam's thoughts at the time. :P**

**Warning****: Me being me, this contains swearing, scenes of violence/torture, and constant bickering between hunters and demons alike (Cas is apparently too polite to argue. :P) If offended by any of the aforementioned, then stay away. :L**

**Disclaimer:**** As always, I do not own Supernatural. Not even a teeny knife or weeny gun.**

* * *

"**One Simple Plan"**

"_So I did the only thing you can do when you are trapped in a corner: I chewed my way through the wall."  
__~Scott Adams~_

* * *

_Present_

"You know what Dean, this is the last time we work with a demon…" Sam found himself muttering while peering blearily around the darkened room. His head was throbbing, and his side was killing him. Hopefully he hadn't broken anything, or else he really would be in big trouble.

_As if the trouble wasn't big enough all ready!_

"And you know what, Bobby?" Sam continued talking to himself as he tried to get his hands – which were currently tied behind his back – free of the tight knots, "this is the last time we help any of your friends." He gave the cord one last useless tug, before giving up with a sigh, "I'm being serious." He leant back into the chair he was bound to with a moan of pain as his side protested. Closing his eyes, Sam fought against the rising nausea he was feeling every time he moved his head.

"And you know what, Sammy-boy," Came a voice from the darkness, mocking his latest ramblings, "They say that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

_Oh, brilliant. He's come 'round and all._

Eyes fluttering open, Sam peered into the darkness of the room. All he could see was the faint outlines of devil's traps and a table, piled high with objects he couldn't make out. There didn't seem to be anyone else there, but Sam knew that he wasn't alone.

Unfortunately.

"How come you're here?" Sam asked the other side of the room while fighting to keep his eyes open. The drumming noise inside his head was upping the tempo, and it didn't half hurt.

_There's a song about that…I think._

"I'm…Trapped." The voice muttered, sounding embarrassed. "Not going anywhere anytime soon. Neither are you, by the looks of it."

"Sssstrange." Sam heard himself slurring the word. His battle to fight unconsciousness wasn't going well, apparently. But he didn't want to slip into that world, not without knowing what the hell was going on.

He heard faint swearing and a rustling noise before hearing a wince of pain.

"What…Are you doin'…?" He muttered groggily to the shadows.

"Trying to get out. Seems they know their stuff." There was another wince of pain.

"What… Happened…? Why're we…Kept here?"

There was a brief silence, before the voice came back again. "Sammy –boy, they're coming for us. And they know what I am, and who you are. And judging by the way we've been locked up, we're not being invited to a bloody tea-party."

"Oh." Was all Sam said, before he lost his fight to stay awake. Without another word, he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Three days__ previous_

"So." Sam said, turning around in his seat to face his brother. They had been driving for some time now, and neither had commented much on where they were going or even why, for that matter. They had nattered about Cas and how they could help him, before Dean had put on his usual loud rock music. Now, however, Sam had had enough of avoiding the huge demon-sized white elephant strolling around the car, and had decided to question his brother's motives.

After all, just why exactly were they working, yet again, yet a demon? After all the lecturing Sam had been given and duly received about the whole fiasco that had been Ruby, now Dean was willing to trust a demon? It just didn't make any sense, and Sam couldn't understand his brother.

"So." He said again, looking at his brother, who kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Sam decided to try another tactic. "Dean-"

"Spit it out, Sammy." Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes. "But I already have a good idea on what it is you're planning on saying to me."

Throwing caution to the wind, Sam just went for it. "Look, Dean. I don't get it. At all. Why are we working with a demon?" He asked, watching his big brother's reaction.

Dean sighed, and looked at his little brother. He could understand why his was getting questioned – hell, he was questioning himself about his actions. He felt like he was disobeying the first rule his father had ever taught him – 'don't ever trust anything you hunt, no matter what.' Later, Dean had found out how demons loved to twist and manipulate humans, telling those people truths to screw up their minds, as well as lying too. So why on earth was he listening to one now? What was he working with it…Again? Especially after what had happened to his baby brother with the Ruby affair and what she did to him. Dean had been so angry at Sam for working and trusting a demon, and now he was playing the 'double standards' card himself.

Dean sighed again, knowing he was going to have to answer his brother's question. A question he wasn't too sure of the answer himself. He switched off the music and began to speak.

"Listen, Sam. I know why you're asking me this. I get it. But look – we need all the help we can possibly get right now. Even demonic help." He added, seeing Sam open his mouth. "You know that there are things we can't do ourselves! I know that Crowley is using us – he only wants to save himself – but he's a demon and I expect that. We'll deal with him after we stop Lucifer. And you have to admit that without him, we wouldn't have the last two Rings, and we couldn't have stopped the Croatoan virus from spreading without him, either."

"He could be like… Ruby." Sam quickly spat out the name, "Y'know, a double agent. What if he's just playing us?" He asked, looking at Dean. "I wouldn't put it past him. After all, he was second only to Lilith herself, and look how close to Lucifer she was! And how powerful, too!"

Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't think so, Sam. You saw how that demon who possessed Brady acted when he saw Crowley; what he said. Crowley's on the run and the other demons are after him. He knows that if he crosses us, we'll kill him or let his own kind get to him first. So he has to play nice with us."

"Look at how Ruby worked. The other demons thought she was a traitor; that's how cleverly she pulled off her act! What if he's the same?"

Dean shrugged, looking back at the road ahead. "Then he's a far better actor than I gave him credit for. Look, Sam – I'm not too happy about working with him either, but we need to. For now, anyway." Dean added.

Sam shook his head, and looked out of the window next to him. "I don't trust him." He muttered.

His brother laughed. "And you think I do? Like I said before, if he crosses us, we can deal with him."

Sam sighed. "It's just… It feels odd, working with a demon." He nearly said the word, 'again' but decided not to. He didn't want to start a fight between his brother and himself over how stupid he had been once Dean had gone to Hell and even after he had returned.

Dean looked at him again, with something like sympathy in his eyes which also looked tired. "I know you do, Sammy. It's the same for me. But we gotta do what we gotta do."

"Which is stopping the Son of Lucifer from rising." A lone voice said brightly from the back of the Impala.

_For crying out loud!_

Sam swore and turned to see Crowley sitting quite contently with his arms folded. "Would you stop doing that?" Sam thundered, but Crowley only laughed.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle when he saw the frustrated face Sam was pulling. He looked into his mirror and abruptly stopping laughing when he saw that Crowley's hands were stained red with what appeared to be blood.

"What the hell did you do?" Dean asked the demon, while Sam followed Dean's gaze and saw the blood as well.

_Why am I not surprised that a demon just waltzed out of thin air into the car with blood over him?_

The Crossroads demon looked down at his hands and laughed again, his brown eyes glittering. "Oh, whoopsies. Knew I forgot to do something." He rummaged around in one of his coat pockets and pulled out a cloth, and started cleaning his hands. He glanced down at his shirt and saw more splatters of blood and sighed. "That will _never_ come out. Shame. I liked that shirt." He looked quite despondent at the fact.

Dean and Sam just stared, wondering what on earth Crowley had done to cause so much blood to be split.

"If any of that gets on the back seat's upholstery…" Dean warned the demon, while Sam shook at his head at his brothers OCD over his beloved Impala.

_Typical Dean – someone could've just been killed and all he cares about is making sure there are no bloodstains in his car._

"You haven't answered Dean's question – what did you do?" Sam interrogated the demon, who looked up at him with a smirk. "Did you just kill someone? Wouldn't put it past you, you filthy-"

"Sam!" Dean interrupted. "We've been through this already!" He peered at Crowley using his mirror. "Well, Crowley?" He asked.

"Well, let's just say I had some business to do. Apparently some minor demon thought they could try to catch me and turn me in." Crowley snorted, as if to say 'how stupid can you get?' His smirk grew more pronounced as he continued. "He won't try it again. Ever. Neither will any of the others who thought along similar lines." He scrunched up the now bloodstained piece of fabric and threw it out of the window next to him.

"Right." Dean said, looking at the demon warily. "Just… Next time, clean your hands _before_ you get into my baby."

"I do apologise most profusely." The demon said, sounding anything other than apologetic. He laughed, before looking at Sam with an amused expression. Sam had not said a word since Crowley had spoken, but instead had glowered in his general direction. "You really dislike me, don't you?" He sounded almost hopeful.

Sam was tempted to dig out the holy water under his chair and fling it into the thing's eyes and face, but refrained when he considered how mad Dean would get at the water staining the upholstery of the seats. Crowley had been here for only a few minutes at most and already Sam was close to killing him. How the bloody hell was he going to cope with his being here for the whole duration of the hunt?

_I'm going to end up either killing him, or myself._

_Or quite possibly both._

Dean just laughed and decided to concentrate on driving. Obviously his little brother's hatred of all demon kind was going to be a problem on this latest hunt, but at the same time Dean could understand why Sam got mad at Crowley so often. The Crossroads demon just seemed to go of his way to wind Sam up, even though he knew what Sam thought of him and what Sam could do. Hopefully, however, this would stop soon. They all needed to work together; something that wouldn't be achieved if this sort of behaviour continued.

Said little brother was currently turning around to face Crowley and glared at him. "I don't dislike you. I actually can't stand you. Alright?"

Crowley laughed delightedly. His day was getting better. It was so much fun to annoy the youngest Winchester; there were so many buttons he could press to provoke him. "Now really, Sammy. You of all people shouldn't say such things to me." He said with a grin, hoping Sam would swallow the bait and thus answer him.

"What is that suppose to mean, you annoying bastard?" Sam said through clenched teeth.

"Well, after all… You appear to get along _so well_ with demons. There was of course, Ruby…" Crowley watched as Sam's eyes suddenly blazed with fury, and carried on, "It ended with a messy breakup – you did kill her – but you had great fun with that one. And of course, there was darling little Meg before her – you told her all your woes about big brother here, didn't you, before you knew what she was. And of course, there was old Yellow-Eyes himself – he had such high hopes for you. The two of you must have got on like a house on fire – oh wait, you did, didn't you?" Crowley finished with a wide grin, waiting for Sam's reaction. Oh, he enjoyed this. He enjoyed it a lot.

_You did not just say what I think you said._

Sam was actually trembling with barely-suppressed rage and he discovered that he couldn't speak, but when he did, he spoke with a voice laced with fury.

"I am going to kill you."

Crowley's eyes seemed to darken and glitter more, and he leant forward. "I would like to see you try, darling." He winked.

Dean decided to quickly intervene before the two of them ended up actually killing each other – it was bad enough that already they were at each other's throats. But his point had been proven to be correct – Crowley was going out of way to make Sam furious, and Dean didn't know how long Crowley could get away with it. Besides, he was angry on his little brother's behalf and he was going to show Crowley that he wasn't to deal such low blows towards Sammy.

"Crowley, that's enough from you. Keep this up and so help me God, I will send you back to Hell where your little friends will only be too happy to see you again!" Dean shouted, taking a small delight in seeing Crowley's smirk get wiped off his face.

"You wouldn't." The demon said, looking horrified.

"You don't think I would? Say something like that to my brother again and I will. In fact, I'd get him to be the one to send you back. He would love that, wouldn't you, Sammy?" Dean glanced at his little brother, who was still looking totally consumed with anger, but nodded with a wicked grin of his own.

"Oh, I would _love_ to do that." He looked at the demon.

"You don't know how to send me back. What exorcisms you know won't work on me." Crowley muttered, glaring. He was tempted – very, very tempted – to just break every bone in the younger Winchester's body. He could do it in the blink of an eye without even touching him, but sparing a glance at the angry face of Dean, knew that he would then be hunted by a vengeful older brother as well as the entire population of Hell. He had known that to stay on the safer side of the brothers he would have to help them out and be on his best behaviour but hey – he was a demon.

"How do you know we haven't found out by now?" Sam said darkly. He hoped that Crowley couldn't tell that he was bluffing. This was his one card he had to play against the demon. Sam hoped it would work.

Crowley guessed that the Winchesters were lying, but then again… He couldn't be too sure. He had stories of these two and what they were capable of, and he also knew that if they did manage to send him back, he would be subjected to hundreds of years of the most painful and barbaric tortures ever invented. Something he was pretty sure he didn't want to have to go through.

Sighing, Crowley realised he would have to give in and leave Sam be. Which was a pity, for that was the best entertainment around.

"Fine." He muttered, annoyed at his giving in. He threw the younger Winchester a poisonous glare before allowing his attention to be drawn to looking outside of the window.

Sam still looked angry and still glowered at the back of the demon, but turned around to face the front of the car. He knew now, at least, what he could threaten the demon with to make him behave. Which was something, he guessed.

_If I could send him back, I would do so without blinking an eye_.

Dean, seeing that the threat of confrontation had mercifully disappeared, decided to swiftly change the topic before anything else could be said by either of his passengers that could encourage another 'verbal war'.

"So, Crowley. How did you know about the demon search squad?" He asked, thinking that it was better to focus on their latest hunt as opposed to killing each other.

Crowley kept looking out of the window. "I heard news, and me being me found out." He shrugged. "You should know by now I have my ways." He smirked.

Sam's total disgust for the demon was eventually trumped by his desire for knowledge and he decided to continue the questioning. "Did Lucifer actually copy everything that God did? I mean, Jesus is God's son, right, and Mammon is Lucifer's… What else did he copy?" Sam asked, and the fact that his little brother was once again acting like the walking encyclopedia made Dean smile. He had missed that. Ever since they were young kids Sam had enjoyed pestering him, or their dad, for information. It had been nothing but questions, but recently that had stopped. Now Dean could see however a glimpse of his little brother from a while ago.

Crowley turned around, now looking at Sam with something akin to interest. "You actually care about us living on the other side of the coin, Sam? Well, I am impressed." He studied the younger Winchester. "After all, you were meant to be the leader for the army, were you not? I had Lilith moaning in my ear for _quite_ some time over that." He said, his grin widening. "She was really determined to put you down like a, 'sick puppy' if I remember correctly. Personally, I believe it was pure jealousy – all the attention you were given and she received none. Her, the first demon ever made and by Lucifer at that." He shook his head and laughed. "She really wanted your head on a plate."

_Exactly what I wanted from her. How ironic._

Sam laughed. "Really?" He looked at his brother. It was strange hearing a demon talk about something that had been so big so naturally. Hell, it was strange talking so matter-of-factly with a demon, full stop. Especially a demon who had been close to the very demon Sam had been pitted against.

"Oh yes." Crowley appeared to be enjoying himself. "But that wasn't what you wanted to know."

"No. We want to know 'bout Lucifer and his minions." Dean put in. He too was intrigued by talking to the demon, who was casually talking about Hell and its secrets.

"Indeed you do. Well, you may laugh, but Lucifer is God to us. Our Creator, if you will." Crowley was no longer looking at Sam but instead was staring straight ahead. "The fallen Morning Star. The angel who fought with his brothers and was locked up by Michael. He was beautiful, you know." Crowley said, apparently lost in thought. "Then… Then he became the Devil you know and hate. He had hated his Father for ordering him to bow to you lot, and for making Jesus, so he took revenge and created Mammon."

"How?" Sam breathed, totally absorbed with this new information. "Jesse – the Antichrist-"

"Is to be the 'end time' leader who fulfills Biblical prophecies concerning an adversary of Christ, while resembling Him in a deceptive manner. The antichrist will seemingly provide for the needs of the people but deny the ultimate salvation." Crowley said, apparently reciting from somewhere. "Your little Jesse was made by a succubus – the highest ranking one - impregnating a human female, as you well know. Mammon was created by Lucifer himself doing the deed. How? I don't know." Crowley admitted, shrugging. "But this was before he was locked up, shortly after he made Lilith; the first demon. It was possible him for him."

"How long ago are we talking?" Dean asked.

Crowley laughed. "Once again, you're lucky to have your looks. I thought you would have known! You are talking about thousands of years ago. _Thousands_. And shortly afterwards, Michael trapped Lucifer into the Box, and consigned Lilith to the very depths of Hell. Mammon was born to a human female who may have been a virgin, I do not know. Anyway he was tracked down and handed to Lilith herself, thus he grew up in Hell."

"Where he has been ever since, I'm guessing?" Sam said.

Crowley winked. "Top of the class, Sammy-boy. Only now, he wants out. Which brings us back to the little job at hand. We have to stop his vessel being found. If he pops out of the Pit, we'll be dealing with not just one show-down, but two." He shook his head. "Something I think we all agree cannot happen."

"Michael versus Lucifer and then Lucifer versus Mammon?" Dean guessed. "Do these guys not care about the people they will kill in their little games?" He thundered.

Sam nodded slowly in agreement with his brother, but another thought had struck him suddenly. "Crowley… You seem to know a hell of a lot about this." His eyes narrowed. "Just how old are you exactly?"

Crowley leant back into the upholstery, his dark eyes glittering. "Maybe I'm just a good listener, and like to know my own Bible stories, hmm?"

Sam snorted. "Like hell you do. I know you were second only to Lilith, and she was Lucifer's first. You do the math – that means you were the second demon created, right?"

"Oh, you think so highly of me. I'm really very touched by this display." Crowley said with a laugh.

Dean sighed. "Just answer the damn question, Crowley! I don't want to hear this going on and on for evermore!" Secretly though he was just as interested as Sam was, but he didn't want the demon to gloat anymore than he already was. Then he really would be unbearable!

"Well, maybe I was the second or maybe I was not." Crowley smiled that infuriating smile of his which made Sam roll his eyes. "Anyway, I don't see how that is so imperative to this case. As far as I am aware, we need to stop Mammon, and the last time I looked he didn't seem to care about rankings." Crowley glanced out the window again, his attention on the previous subject apparently waning.

Sam sighed, and turned around to face the front of the car once more, his hopes of gaining more interesting information dashed. However he had learnt something important anyway about Mammon and his existence, and as a result was more determined to thwart another creature of Hell from crawling into the World and cause death and destruction. He looked at his big brother.

"How far have we got left to travel?" He asked, smiling a bit as he realised how young he sounded by asking that question. "Or should I say, 'are we there yet?'" He said with a chuckle.

Dean laughed. "We should be there within an hour or so, Samantha. Not far to go. We'll check into a motel and then look for Bobby's friend, Thomas Richardson. At least, I think that's his name. He's the hunter around here. He and Bobby go a while back; Bobby saved his life once and Thomas hasn't forgotten it. Always ready to help him out, but this time he needs Bobby's help."

_Only it's not gonna be Bobby who'll help him, but us._

Crowley sat up at the name of the hunter. "Richardson… I do know that name from somewhere…" He murmured, once again lost in thought.

Dean glanced at Sam, before looking at Crowley. "See if you've killed a friend of his and you're thinkin' that you're gonna meet this guy with us…" He said warningly. "You could get us into a lot of trouble. This guy hates demons, almost as much as Sammy here does." Dean broke off laughing darkly. "And that's saying something!"

Sam cracked a smile, but was too busy focusing on Crowley, wondering what the connection was between the demon and Bobby's friend; what had happened in the past between them. Knowing the demon, it was probably linked to murder, or violence of some kind.

_He volunteered to help us knowing he had history with this Thomas? _

_And he called us idiots._

"Dean, I'm hurt!" The demon pouted. "You have such a low opinion of me. I'll have you know I don't go around killing humans!"

"That time when we went to pick up the demon Brady? You killed two guards –who were not possessed! – for no reason!" Dean retorted, looking (and feeling) exasperated.

Crowley smirked. "Well, I don't usually do that." He said, before muttering, "At least, not _all_ the time."Seeing Dean raise an eyebrow at him, Crowley shrugged. "That's what you get for working with a demon! And since I cannot recall harming or killing anyone called Richardson, it seems I am quite innocent of these accusations."

"Yeah. This time!" Dean said, rolling his eyes at the demon. "Seriously though, don't cross this guy. Like I said before, he really hates you guys." He continued, gesturing at Crowley. "He has a real vendetta against demons for some reason; Bobby didn't go into the details with me. Anyway, just stay outta his way, okay?"

Crowley mimed locking his hands together and tossing away the non-existent key. "Whatever you say, Deano."

Deciding to ignore the demon's antics –

_Something I'll have to get used to _

- Sam looked at his brother. "Did Bobby tell him it's only us coming and not him too?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. Guess so. Thomas didn't seem to mind though. Just glad to get any help right now I guess." He cracked a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know the feeling."

Sam inwardly winced. He too knew the feeling; it was just that Dean was usually so composed on this sort of topic; so reluctant to say that he felt defeated. Well, usually he was, but recently… Recently he had been more open. More likely to turn around and say, 'screw this' or curse against God and the Angels. Sam also could see that there were days where his brother didn't want to get up in the mornings, or wouldn't go to sleep at night. He also saw that his brother seemed to be drinking more often these days. But what was worse about the whole mess was that Dean was mentioning this in front of a bloody demon. And what's more, he didn't even seem to give a damn about it, either.

_Things are getting from bad to worse._

He was about to offer some sympathy to his older brother when he found himself being interrupted.

"Oh, boo hoo." Crowley remarked dryly from the back seat. "If this is going to be a session of, 'I'm all alone in the World, O woe is me' then I swear I will rip out your tongue, glaze it and sell it as a fizzy sweet." He paused, looking thoughtful. "How does 'Fizzy Winchesters' sound as a brand name?"

There was silence.

Sam felt ready to make a lunge at the demon, which was sitting so contently behind his brother, but decided to see Dean's reaction first. Expecting fury and rage, he found himself surprised and actually a tad disappointed when Dean seemed to be containing laughter.

"Dean," Sam said slowly, trying to restrain himself, "Are you actually laughing at what the demon just said?" Judging by his brother's shaking shoulders, he was.

It took a few seconds for Dean to control himself, and when he had he turned to face his brother.

"It's the image I had in my head of Crowley standing at a crossroads with a sugar-coated human tongue in his hand, with a sign over his head saying, 'Fizzy Winchesters'." Dean laughed again, and saw that his little brother was anything but amused. "Sorry. Seems my sense of humour changed 'cause of the whole 'Apocalypse Now' deal."

"It kinda has, yeah." Sam muttered, looking at his brother warily.

"Oh, give over, Bitch." Dean said, a grin forming around his mouth. Sam couldn't help but reply, seeing as his brother had seemingly been raised from the ebb of a depression. Besides, it was a link to the 'Old Days' and who was Sam to complain about that? Hell, he missed those days.

"Give over yourself, Jerk." Sam retorted. Seeing his brother's grin widen, Sam felt a happiness that he hadn't experienced in far too long. It felt… Good. Really good. But it also made him feel a little sad.

When was the last time Dean and he had exchanged those all-too familiar words? It had been so long ago; Sam couldn't remember. It was sad to consider that, but there you go. And annoyingly, it had been the demon in the back seat, whose presence infuriated Sam, who had helped return a grin to Dean's face.

Making a mental note to keep the whole 'bitch/jerk' routine alive, Sam decided to see what the demon as up to now, seeing as he had been unusually quiet for a bit.

But on making an investigation of the backseat, Sam saw that Crowley was gone. Turning himself around again, Sam looked out of the car window at his side.

"He's gone again." He informed his brother.

Dean shrugged, apparently not too concerned. "Just as well. It would've been awkward checking into a motel with the three of us. Hell, when it's the two of us it's bad. Three of us would've been worse."

"He could be backing out, you know." Sam propped himself up against the door of the car, "Making a run for it." He knew he was being paranoid again, but still. Someone needed to point out the obvious.

"Sammy, we've been through all this. 'Sides, why would he back out now? It makes no sense-"

"'Cause you know, it makes absolute perfect sense to have him being here and all." Sam interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Dean! He's a freakin' demon! Are you telling me you actually trust him now? Is that it? You go off with him a couple of times and you're what, buddies now?"

"This coming from the guy who wanted to ask the Trickster to help us-"

"Who turned out to be Gabriel! Not a Trickster, but an Archangel!" Sam said defensively, throwing his hands up. "He-"

"Still wouldn't help us." Dean interrupted again. He looked annoyed, but then something triggered in his memory and he relented. "But he did in the end, I'll give him that. But," Dean changed course as Sam opened his mouth, "That was all totally different! Now, discussion over, Sam. I don't want to have to keep arguing about this all the time we're here. We need Crowley now, and when we don't, we simply won't work with him anymore. Okay?" Dean sounded final, but it didn't escape Sam's attention that he hadn't answered his previous question.

In fact, he had avoided it.

Sam was about to bring that up when Dean again said, "It's over, Sammy." Seeing the look in his big brother's eyes, Sam mutinously shut his mouth, none too happy about it. He went back again to looking outside of the window, and a silence cloaked the Impala.

Perhaps Dean didn't like it anymore than Sam, for a moment or two later he leant forward and pressed a button and then Metallica was once again blasting loudly.

* * *

***le gasp* I had to write and re-write this chapter so many times; I can't bear to read it again. :L  
Thank you for all the reviews, faves, and alerts. They make me so happy! Thank you again!**


	3. When in Rome

**Author's Note****: Right, I have **_**no idea**_** where this came from. One minute I'm happily borrowing my mam's laptop to answer some questions in several private messages, the next I'm suddenly typing away like crazy. I blame Sam and Crowley for this, I really do.**

**I need to say a massive thank you to everyone who has pm-ed with words of encouragement during my own horrible Hellatus, which is due to GCSES and a comatose computer. Thank you so much guys for sticking by me with such patience! Please grin and bear it a little longer and hopefully I'll soon have a TONNE of updates for you. Until then, take this as a peace offering. Care of my recent obsession with a certain English demon. ;)**

**Words in italics are Sam's thoughts at the time. :P**

**Warning****: Me being me, this contains swearing, scenes of violence/torture, and constant bickering between hunters and demons alike (Cas is apparently too polite to argue. :P) If offended by any of the aforementioned, then stay away. :L**

**Disclaimer:**** As always, I do not own Supernatural. Not even a teeny knife or weeny gun.**

* * *

"**One Simple Plan"**

"_So I did the only thing you can do when you are trapped in a corner: I chewed my way through the wall."_

_~Scott Adams~_

* * *

_Present_

Eyes fluttered open, the Darkness still calling at their edges.

There were footsteps. Coming closer. Door creaked open. Footsteps came closer.

_They're here._

Sam cursed weakly as light suddenly flooded the previously darkened room. Once his raging head had ceased complaining, he looked around to find that right in front of him stood several men and a woman, all of whom looked furious, but also eager.

Sam didn't want to know what for.

Once again he fought not to throw up as the moving of his head caused acute pain.

"Now, Winchester." The woman, apparent leader of the four stepped in front of him, and jerked his head forward to look at her. Sam bit his lip to stop the cry of pain escaping him. "You're gonna tell us everything. The whole truth."

"And let me guess, nothing but the truth, so help me God?" Sam couldn't help but reply, earning him a slap.

"Boy, I wouldn't joke 'bout this. You've got a rep and it's not a pleasant one." One of the men was talking now. "And you're with a demon, which to us…"

"Proves everything." The woman finished. Her eyes gleamed. "So, I'm tellin' you again to tell us everything, Winchester. Or else we'll treat you like the monster we all know you are."

There was something dark in her voice, and Sam didn't doubt that she would follow through with her threat.

_Oh shit. Dean, where are you?_

"I'm the monster? You kidnapped me!" He snapped, looking her in the eye.

"Why work with a demon if you're so angelically good?" She retorted, gesturing behind her. "We got your little pet too. If you don't talk, I'm sure it will."

"Darling, stop referring to me as 'it'. I do have a name, you know." So came the smooth voice from the other side of the room. There was a pause. "And I still have enough pride left to resent being called _his_ 'pet'!"

Seeing how angry the woman suddenly got at being addressed as 'darling' by a demon, Sam for the first time thanked whoever got him into this mess that he ended up with Crowley. At least he would get a laugh out of seeing his kidnappers having to deal with him.

All the same, seeing for the first time what exactly was on the table near him, Sam found himself praying desperately for his brother to come.

_Hurry up, Dean. Please._

* * *

_Three days previous_

_There was fire. A huge, raging fire. Smoke was belching out, covering the sky. He could smell it – it had a hint of sulphur to it._

_Screams filled the air – people begging to be spared, people crying out in sheer agony as they are killed in ways so gruesome Sam closes his eyes._

_He's seen enough to last a lifetime. But it's only just begun._

_He walks onwards, on ground awash with blood and what appears to be entrails. He shakes his head and keeps going. He has a purpose._

"_This is the way the World ends." _

_The words, whispered, come from nowhere and seem to cloak him. He looks around, searching, but sees no one. Yet he knows that voice. Knows it all too well. He picks up the pace now. _

"_This is the way the World ends."_

_Ignore it and run. Ignore it and run._

_He trips over something and falls down. Looking to see what caused his fall, Sam yells. It's a body. But not just any body._

_It's Dean. It's his big brother. And he's been torn to shreds._

"_This is the way the World ends." The voice is closer now, and sounds pleased. Sam, sobbing bitterly, pulls the remains of his brother to him._

"_You bastard! Why him? Why him?" Like he will get an answer. His cry is one of hundreds, maybe even thousands. _

"_Not with a bang, but a whimper." The voice seems to be at Sam's neck. "I told you I only needed you, Sammy. Only you. And your brother is dead because you wouldn't let me in." A series of harsh laughs. "Can you live with yourself now? Look at the World. Can you?"_

_Seeing the bloodied, tattered corpse in his hands, hearing the screams and cries from around him, Sam wordlessly shakes his head. _

_He can't._

_And the World burns._

"Sam? Sam? Oye, Samantha, we're here! Wakey wakey!" Dean killed the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition with a sigh. He rubbed his neck and glanced again at his little brother. Part of him felt guilty at waking him up – Sam, having barely slept for a while, sure as hell needed the sleep now – but the other part told him to shut up and think clearly. Anyone who cried out in his sleep was hardly enjoying themselves, were they?

Big brother mode now switched on, Dean edged his way over to his now shaking brother, and gently shook his shoulder.

"Sammy? Sammy, wake up." No response, except for a whimper. Dean tried again, changing tack this time, "Sammy, you're safe. Come on now, wake up for me."

"…'Ean…?" Sam blearily opened one eye. His voice sounded hoarse and groggy with sleep. "You're alive?" He made it sound like a plea.

Shaking his head –

_I'm so killing Lucifer for putting my brother for all this every time he closes his friggin' eyes __– _

Dean gently helped his brother into a more comfortable position. Sam, for once, let him, showing Dean just how exhausted he really was. It was times like these that Dean felt defeated. If it had been just another Big Bad hurting his little brother in the real world, he would've been able to show that no one touches Sam. But in Dreamland, it was another thing entirely, and Dean was unable to protect his brother from whatever horrors he was forced to see. Of course, it was a lose/lose, as Sam needed to sleep. He couldn't stay awake until they had stopped the Devil, could he? It was one big ugly mess, and Dean felt totally useless. Looking at his little brother, who looked so… Young all of a sudden, that feeling just intensified.

Sighing again, Dean was about to change the topic – Sam usually preferred him to do that whenever this happened – but Sam's words caught him by surprise.

"He killed you." Sam stared straight ahead, but his eyes were full of pain. He looked like a man who had been tortured in the worse possible way, and that was something Dean could relate with all too well, having spent a while down in the Pit.

Biting his lip, Dean kept his hand on Sam's shoulder. "It was only a dream, Sammy. Look – I'm here, aren't I?" Seeing that Sam didn't turn to look at him, Dean kept going. "Your handsome big brother is all in one piece, Sam. It was only a dream. It's not real."

"It feels real." Sam whispered, closing his eyes. "I held you. In my arms. I could actually feel that." He dragged a hand through his messy hair, swallowing convulsively.

"Sam…" Dean didn't know what to say. He could imagine all too clearly what it must have been like – he had held Sam when he was dying, three odd years ago. It had been heartbreaking, to say the least. But Sam was being put through all that every night. Dean honestly didn't know how his little brother coped.

Suddenly Sam was looking at him, blinking furiously, all traces of near-breakdown gone. He smiled determinedly.

"So, I guess we're here then."

_Ah. Now you wanna change the topic, Sammy. Okay. Let's roll._

Dean nodded. "Yeah. We're in the Antioch Township, 'bout a twenty minute drive from Thomas' house, according to the map Bobby drew out for us." Dean peered at the piece of paper now in his hands. "The closest motel is only a minute or two away, I saw it driving in." He opened the driver's door and got out, stretching.

Sam followed suite. He had his mask on again, and he was angry at himself for letting it drop only a few moments ago. He didn't want to worry his older brother more, hence why he usually bounced back after the Nightmares from Hell. He snorted. That was ironic.

But this recent nightmare had been more realistic than the dreams had been in a while; more frightening. It was something that was going to linger on with him for a while, he could tell. But he was going to have to forget about that now – they had a job to do here. So, better get started, yes?

The two brothers both headed around to the trunk of the car, and picked up the bags they had packed and placed there. Dean took out his trusty silver handgun and as was tradition, tucked it into the back of his jeans, hidden from sight by his jacket. Sam decided to pull out Ruby's – _that demon's_ – knife from his bag and hid it on is person.

_Better be prepared for anything. Bobby says Thomas thinks __there are fifteen demons running around here. And that's the minimum number._

_Open Season on Demons, then. Just how I like it._

Dean looked at him. "Ready to go?" Sam nodded, and they headed off. They said nothing as they walked, but it was an oddly comforting silence, and Sam appreciated his big brother for letting him be. Sam knew that Dean was worried about him; knew that he felt guilty because he couldn't help him, but Sam thought that the best way Dean could help him right now was to simply let him get over this latest nightmare by himself. Maybe Dean had picked up on that, and was doing just that – letting him immerse himself in his own thoughts.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a tap on the shoulder from Dean, who nodded with his head to the building in front of them.

"Here's the motel. Let's go and get checked in, and take it from there, right?" Dean looked at his brother but Sam briefly nodded and walked in first, not looking Dean in the eye. He knew that if he did he would see his big brother's concern all too clearly there.

Sighing – he knew what Sam was up to – Dean decided to let that go and follow his brother in.

The girl behind the desk was busy with her head in a book and didn't notice them approaching her. When she did, she looked up and Dean could see that she was in her late twenties, with retro glasses and dyed red hair. She was pretty, he supposed, in that 'I love college' way. She dropped him a smile, and closed her book with some reluctance.

"Hey there. Can I help you?" She said, looking Dean up and down. Rolling his eyes at her behaviour, Sam decided to step in before Dean could respond in kind.

"Uh, hi. Yeah, we could do with a room, please. Two single beds," He added quickly, seeing her raise an eyebrow at his request. "We're brothers." He concluded, gesturing at Dean. The girl smirked, and nodded.

"Sure. So…We got a couple of those free. Lemme see… What 'bout Number 22?" She chucked the keys over to Sam and scribbled something down. "So could you just sign here?" She pointed to a spot.

Sam scrawled down the quickest name he could think of and pushed the slip back at her. He glanced down at her book – some book of verse. It looked old.

"You like poetry then?" He asked her whilst she scribbled something else down. She nodded, a genuine smile on her face now.

"I'm studying to be a teacher, but I'm secretly aspiring to be a poet. Words are just…Magical." She laughed. "The couple who left recently told me I should keep at it. They agreed with me that words are musical, too." Her grin dropped suddenly. "They're missing now. Such nice people…It's just so sad."

Sam looked at Dean, who slightly nodded his head. Both were thinking the same thing – they may have found number one and two of the demon search squad, or at least they had found their meat suits.

_Seems we're on the right track._

She still looked sad, and Sam, feeling sorry for her, decided to change the topic. Might as well before they headed off. "That book looks old." He said, and she patted the book almost reverently.

"It was my mom's, who gave it to me. It was first published in the fifties, so it's pretty old, I guess. It has my favourite poem in it, by my favourite poet, so I love it."

It was Dean who spoke this time. "Who and what are they?" He tried to sound interested, but poetry had never been his favourite thing in the World. But the girl seemed nice enough.

She laughed again, and handed over their receipt. "I adore T S Eliot. And my favourite poem is his, 'The Hollow Men'. It's the last lines in the final stanza, you see. 'This is the way the World ends/Not with a bang but a whimper.'" She smiled, in a better mood. "It's just so… Foreboding. Well, have a nice time here, guys." She opened the book and went back to reading.

Sam forced his feet to move towards the hallway, listening to Dean thump around behind him. But he didn't how he managed to do even that, or how he kept his face emotionless.

_That's what he said to me. In that nightmare. That's what he said._

_What does that mean? Does he know what we're doing here?_

_I don't know…_

He shook his head. Perhaps he was just being paranoid; thinking too much about it. After all, it was an old, and also a very popular poem. Those lines are so widely quoted. It was probably nothing. Sure it wasn't.

It was probably nothing, right?

"…So we can do that then, yeah?" Dean's voice seemed louder all of a sudden. Sam perked up and realised he was being watched. And he hadn't been paying any attention whatsoever to Dean.

"Uh… Yeah." He said, trying –and failing – to look like a guy who knows what's going on around him. He saw Dean looking at him; knew he'd failed the 'he's all right' test.

_Damn, now I'm gonna get it._

"Sam…" Dean started, and then stopped. He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Look bro, I know you like to forget about the whole nightmare stuff, but this time it seems different. No, don't give me the 'I'm fine' crap," He said, as Sam started to speak. "You've been acting all zombie on me since we got out of the car, and you zoned out again just there now. Look man, I'm worried about you. Just… If you do wanna talk, talk to me, okay?" Dean's voice was just on that side of pleading, and Sam felt so overwhelming guilty. It was all his fault that Dean was so worried. Dean did _not_ need any more pieces of crap on his already full plate.

Sam took a deep breath, and looked his brother in the eyes.

"Seriously Dean, I'm fine. Yeah, I'm still not fully over what I saw, but… I'll be okay. Thanks though, man." He hung his head, as if in shame. He told his brother a half truth with a lie. After he had been so open with him, the first time he had been in ages too. But it was for the best though, right? If Dean didn't know how bad it was in his head, then he'd be better off. And that was all that Sam wanted.

Dean looked at him again, as if he knew something was going on but didn't pursue the topic, and instead opened their motel room and went in. Sam followed, and the two of them dumped their bags onto their separate beds and began to unpack.

"Sam, you know the drill. Start making this place demon-proof, yeah?" Dean placed a silver knife under his pillow with a flourish. "I'll ring Thomas; let him know we're here. We might as well see him asap." He dug around in his jean pocket, pulled out his mobile and walked out to find a place with a better signal.

So Sam was alone. Alone to think. Just the way he liked it.

He started pouring salt around the windows and as he did so he allowed his mind to run riot.

_If Lucifer knows we're here, then that means this was all a trap, right? Have we been lured here? It did always sound suspicious, right from the beginning. If that's true… But then that means that Crowley-_

He straightened up suddenly, his hazel eyes blazing. The salt poured, he scrunched the empty bag up and threw it into the corner. He had been aiming for the bin but missed, yet he didn't care. Hs mind was elsewhere.

_That bastard. He's been playing us the whole time._

Sam shook his head, allowing a smile of pure disbelief cross his features. He had to admit, it had been executed perfectly – Crowley saying that he didn't need another Lord of Hell chasing him down, but that was over to cover up his real plans. The plans that Sam thought he had finally uncovered. It now made perfect sense – Crowley was on the run after crossing Lucifer, but Mammon was the new rising star. The new guy who wanted to overthrow his daddy. So why not pledge allegiance to him? Mammon would be only too happy to get another on his bandwagon, especially one who had no links to his dad. Sam rubbed his tired eyes with one hand. They had been dragged into this mess, he didn't know why. But he would find out.

The question was: to tell Dean, or not to tell Dean? His big brother would sigh, roll his eyes and say he was paranoid. Say that they needed to use the backstabbing demon, and then once they didn't, it was bye bye. He just couldn't see what Sam could. Which was ironic, as it had been Dean who had been so against using Ruby, back in the day. True, he had been right then, but it was Sam's turn to be right now.

_Damn it Dean! Why could you not just see that we're being played here? Why did we let _it_ come with us?_

Sam's internal struggle was halted mid-flow when the door opened and Dean himself walked in, tucking his mobile phone back into his pocket. He looked around the room to check out Sam's handiwork, and nodded his approval.

"So, what did Bobby's friend say?" Sam asked, trying to forget about his demon problems and focus instead on something else.

Dean lay down on his bed and stretched out with a little yawn. "He said that we're welcome anytime, but he'd prefer us to get over there as soon as. Apparently it's worse than what he had previously thought. Thinks there could be more than fifteen demons running around here." Dean shook his head. "So… They're really interested in something here, anyway."

Sam shook his head also. He had never heard of so many demons crawling around in one area, but from that time when he and Dean had been locked up in a jail cell by Victor Henricksen in Colorado… There had been quite a lot of demons surrounding the building then.

"I was thinking about what that girl said back there. Do you think that couple have been possessed?" Sam questioned. "It makes sense." But he didn't even consider mentioning how she had quoted the same lines that had been in his dream.

His brother sat up again. "It fits the bill – they've 'vanished', but my guess is that they're with the little demon party." He paused, and then an idea hit him. "Sam, do a little digging, see who else has disappeared from around here. Might give us an indication of how many we could be dealing with here."

Sam inwardly winced. He should've thought of that. But his mind is a little full right now; too full for anything resembling common sense. But he has to act normal or else his brother will pick up on what's going on, if he hasn't already.

So he pulls out the laptop, switches it on and accesses the internet. It's time for some good old fashioned detective work, albeit using modern technology. Besides, it's something he doesn't mind doing – it's far better than having to hide from angels of tackle Lucifer, isn't it?

* * *

While the boys were discussing the case, and while Sam was researching, the young girl behind the check-in desk at their motel was slowly putting down her book with a sudden smile playing about her lips.

She looked around her, before glancing at the door. There was no one there bar herself, so she could finally get around to reporting now. She couldn't wait to do so; her boss would be _so_ pleased with her. True, it technically was bad news, that which she had, but the phrase 'to kill two birds with one stone' came to her mind.

"I'll hand over the Winchesters. My Master can get his vessel, and the other one can be disposed of." She smiled dreamily. She got up off her seat and began to walk towards a door hidden from the view of the public. Once she was in the little store room, she sat down on a little stool. She was just pulling out a very old and mysterious looking goblet when she was suddenly interrupted.

"Justine?" A male voice enquired, causing her to jump. "What are you doing in here, leaving the desk empty? Not good customer service, y'know."

She pirouetted around, flashing the older man a wide smile. "I needed a break." Seeing him raise an eyebrow, she continued quickly. "Come on, Brian. You know it's pretty much deserted out there. Let me hang out here for bit, please? Don't tell Mark on me, sugar!" Justine pouted, dropping him a wink.

Brian seemed to consider something for a moment, before shaking his head. "Justine, you think your charms work on me – they don't… But I'll let you off this time." He laughed. "Such a bad influence you are on me, girl."

Justine laughed along with him, but inwardly she was screaming in frustration. Stupid man, holding her up. But… She thought suddenly, an evil glint in her eyes, he could be useful…

"Say, Brian. Could you help me fix my necklace at the back? I can't reach the clasp!" Brian rolled his eyes, but nodded good-naturedly and walked over to where she was sitting. He leant over her, and was about to touch her neck when he spotted a flash of something silver in her hands.

"Justine? Why do you have a knife-" he was cut off with a sputter as with one swift stroke, Justine slit his throat. He gaped at her as blood poured from his neck. She grinned happily at him, collecting his blood in the strange goblet.

"Thanks, Brian. You're a star!"

Turning her back on the dying man, she raised the now-full goblet in front of her, closed her eyes and began to chant an incantation in Latin. After a moment, the blood began to churn violently. Justine smiled.

"It's me, Lucius." She said, and nodded, as 'Lucius' asked her something. "Yes, I've got news. Everything is going to plan, but…" She sighed. "That's the good news." She paused, as she listened. "No, it's nothing like that. It's… The Winchesters are here. Somehow they must've heard we where here." She frowned, biting her lip. "Well, I could just kill them now, but I was thinking that we could trade them in." She laughed suddenly, and her eyes flashed a brilliant, dark black. "Oh, Lucius. They do say that great minds think alike!" She nodded again. "Right, I'll do that then, and I'll see you later."

Justine set down the goblet, and stretched out with a yawn. She glanced over at the now-still figure of Brian.

"Sorry about that, sugar. But what can you do but do your job?" She laughed, and blew the corpse a kiss. "Love you!" Justine made to get up and walk out of the room when she suddenly felt… Wrong. Spinning around, she found herself being watched. She gasped.

"You…" She muttered, taking a step backwards. "The Hellhounds were meant to get you!" Her eyes flashed black again, and she snarled. "What are you doing here, _traitor_?" She spat angrily.

"Sorry, darling. Know it's bad manners to eavesdrop, but that conversation was not to be missed." Crowley tilted his head to one side, smirking. "So, you still think you can take the Winchesters without a fight?" He looked her up and down, and laughed.

Justine narrowed her eyes. "I should've known it was you who'd tell them everything." She paused, thinking furiously. "What are you going to do now? You can't let me stay here, now that I've seen you." She smirked. "Wasn't great thinking on your part."

Crowley looked bored, and inspected his hands. "Well, you've answered your own question, love."

Justine started, momentarily caught out. "What do you mean?" She asked suspiciously.

The Crossroads demon laughed once, and took a step towards her, his eyes glittering. "Obviously I can't let you hang around. I might be caught, and dragged away. As crazy as I may be for helping the Winchester boys, I am certainly not suicidal."

Justine swallowed, the fight suddenly knocked out of her as she felt afraid. "I… I can tell you everything you need to know." She said weakly. "No need to send me back to Hell, yeah?"

Crowley smirked, his expression dark. "Now, that sounds more like it, darling." With a lazy wave of his hand, Justine found herself flying across the store room and into a wall with a crash. "Tell me all. I like a good story."

* * *

**This has grown from a one-shot into a full-length fic. Meaning that everything I had planned for this has to grow and change, too. Darn tootin'.  
Oh yes. T S Eliot is one of my favourite poets, and 'The Hollow Men' is also one of my favourite poems. Just so you know. :P**

Alright my lovies. Hope you like what's happening so far; reviews are as always greatly appreciated. Also, wish me some luck for August 24th. I get my GCSE results then...Which I'm freaking out about. D: xx


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